In the Darkness
by Huurresinetti
Summary: I knew it was wrong of me to believe that I could see my own life shine through your eyes, that I could hear my heartbeat along with yours. But I did, and I belonged to you, in this dark immensity in which my soul has drowned.


**Disclaimer**: All rights go to J.R.R Tolkien, and in the case of this fic, some also belongs to Peter Jackson.

This, folks, is my first piece of fanfiction in English. I thoroughly hope I haven't butchered the language – please, tell me if I've done so. It is short, but I'd like to think that it isn't any less good for it.

I live on comments, chocolate – and on occasion, real food.

**In the Dark**

I knew it was wrong of me to believe that I could see my own life shine through your eyes, that I could hear my heartbeat along with yours. But I did, and I belonged to you, in this dark immensity in which my soul has drowned. But now I'm lost. Lost in everything that surrounds me and I can't find my way back to anywhere. Not to my home and not to any other place. I don't even know where home would be. In the north, perhaps. In the north there was peace. Here everything is a chaos. The gates are still closed, I notice, even though I've yelled for the Lord. I don't think he will answer. Everything is for nothing, and I have to look like it all had some greater purpose. Like I was wise to march all the men to the gates and leave them to die. Or just to go back.

The gates open after all. I talk to the creature which has stolen all remaining hope, and cannot bear to watch it any longer, so I kill it. Ride back and offer words of courage and wisdom and fear. Above all, there is fear. The Nine are here to haunt us, and we only have the One to ride against them. I fear he will not be enough. I look at you, but you don't see my eyes. You are silent, strong and entirely too beautiful in the middle of this madness. For Frodo, I whisper, although I'm not really doing this for him. I hold him, held him, dear, that much is true. But he is gone and I've lost hope. My heart only tells me tales of emptiness, for it too is lost. I run to what I hope will be my death. I find no reason to live. I find nothing. But there is still a flame in my hands and it burns, it burns so bright that I'm blinded. Or maybe it's the tears.

I am stopped, and I fall down believing it to be the end. A new voice among all the other ones, screaming what I think might be my name. An eternity, or perhaps a second, and the weight is lifted from my chest. I didn't die. I am still blinded, I think, though I know of your presence beside me. I still hold the flame, but it has gone out and is no more than a piece of coal in my cold, blood-stained hands. Eagles, someone yells, and I think it's the little one who was wise enough after all. And so it all ends. The nine are gone, to where, I cannot see. But I am no longer afraid, at least not for the same things. I see the tower falling and desperately try to recall what it means. Something good, I think. Something we all wanted, the reason I brought us here. When the little ones start yelling for the Ringbearer, I remember, and smile. Perhaps there will be peace in the South, now. Even you smile.

Then the mountain collapses in a stream of fire, and all is lost again. Not for me, but for my friends. Because they were there, it is impossible for them to have gotten down before that. My tears didn't have time to dry after all. Mithrandir flies after them, I know, but I have no hope left anymore. This is the second time those two have died today, in my heart. I cannot take a third. I have gotten my share of death and wish for no more.

You talk to me. It takes time for me to truly hear your words again, but I heed them when I understand your meaning. Yes, I'll follow you. To the camp and to hope, if that is where you are leading me. I think I'd like it, but I'm not sure. It's been a very long time since hope was more than a passing acquaintance. I might not like her anymore. We go; you are almost carrying me because I can't find the strength to go on. Everything hurts, breathing means pain. Therefore life means pain. How _delightful_. I sit down, my back against a tree and face your worried eyes. You worry about the wrong things. Breathing is alright. It's just pain, a pain I'm familiar with. Loneliness is much worse, and that is what I'm faced with. The Evenstar doesn't shine on this world anymore, of that I've had word. You are the sun and I'm a broken flower someone stepped on, and you can't see me at all. Could you not shine upon me, just once? I long for your warmth, the brightness and the comfort it brings me. I remain in the darkness.


End file.
